Avenues, Dead Ends, and Neurological Life Rafts
I read some of your writings about avenues. The ones that stretch far and the culdusachs that lead to nowhere. I havenât heard that word in ages, since before I moved to Japan, and I remembered just how articulate you were with your vocabulary. I could not even remember how to spell it.
If New York were a grid, and Tokyo is a sprawling nest of meandering back alleys. Some large arteries, but theyâre filled with cars, or train traffic with thousands of people passing through.
For me itâs about creating the routines along the twisting arteries that branch off into tertiary experiences. Some days I will try other small tertiary paths- a different cafe, restaurant everyday. Sometimes I know the exact route I want to take and do the same solid routine over.
There are a lot of dead ends, and maybe a certain part of the neurological network has to get cut off, and I stop going to those places. The place still exists, but I havenât been there in months and months. It is almost as if it doesnât exist. Like string theory, where when youâre not looking at something, or not observing an electron, it transforms into an existence of approximate multiplicity. It exists, but only as a loose cloud of information..
I take medication now, but somehow I still seem to have indecision. I try one path, and then realize itâs a tough one. So I reroute to another one. Iâm constantly rerouting. Itâs paralyzing, and Iâm not in tap with my spiritual guides- the spidey senses, or the compass that allows my spirit to flow like water to the next chapter.
I donât know what my next path is. I canât believe I am as lost as I am at my age. It makes me wonder, how Iâve been meandering for this long in my life. Surely, something would happen, maybe some freak accident and it could all be over soon.
There are no signs of any pattern, no recurring themes, nobody to rely on. Just lost, on a life raft in the open ocean.













